


The Chase

by treewishes



Category: NASCAR RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-20
Updated: 2007-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 03:56:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1630223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/treewishes/pseuds/treewishes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elliott Sadler leads a hunting trip with fellow drivers Jamie McMurray, Greg Biffle, and Matt Kenseth. Something's up, but Elliott can't quite figure it out. Gen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Chase

**Author's Note:**

> Lightgetsin for good-humoured status checks, Bethbethbeth for a support and ideas, Ad Baculum for the marvelous last minute beta, and R. for being (a) source, and (2) R.
> 
> Written for tolakasa

 

 

 

 

"Think that's Jamie?" Greg asks.

Elliott cocks his head, and grins. "Yup. I can hear him taking the corner hard by the crick."

Soon enough, a big, blue Ford Expedition pulls in. He and Greg lever themselves off the sun porch and mosey out to the yard. A couple of his hounds follow them out, running laps out to the pumphouse and back.

As they get out of the truck, Elliott can see that Jamie really has brought Kenseth along. Elliott is kinda surprised by this. Jamie was the one who had mentioned bringing Greg up for a hunt, and that was just fine, but Kenseth? He thinks Matt is well, weird, even though Jamie seems to like him. They're teammates and all, but still. He and Matt aren't friends, especially after that mess in Daytona last year, so it is kinda odd that he'd want to come.

"Thought you guys were lost!" Greg says and Jamie shrugs. Elliott shakes Jamie's hand and gives him a half-hug; they're all grinning. Greg and Matt start punching each other in the arm, and suddenly things are fine.

"Nice place, Sadler," Matt says. "Emporia seemed like a nice town, too," he adds, and Elliott has to admit, he might be weird, but at least he is polite.

"It's not much, but it's mine," he shrugs.

"Yeah, well. Thanks for the invite," Matt says. "And, hey. Sorry I couldn't make it up earlier. I really appreciate you letting things slide a bit."

"Hey, no problem," he replies, and it really wasn't too bad. "Glad to see ya. We were kinda worried you wouldn't make it out by lunchtime."

"All this and food, too?" Jamie says he's hungry, they all are, and Elliott ushers them into the lodge. He has lunch from Maybelle's in town. It's great food.

They spend a good hour after lunch getting their hunting duds and guns out of the back of Matt's Expedition. It has a huge cage in the back; kind of big for dogs, but maybe Matt had a poodle or some fancy dog that needed a lot of room. Right now, though, it's full of all the stuff Matt and Jamie have brought. Jamie has some sissy-ass camo bag with a Jeff Gordon logo, which means they all have to make snotty comments about him. Elliott remembers all the stuff he used to get with M&Ms logos that he doesn't use anymore, and kind of misses it.

After they get their gear straight, Elliott takes them out to the kennel to go get the dogs.

"Okay, here's how it's gonna work. You two--" he points to Greg and Matt-- "you guys go around the marsh in the quadrunner and get set up in the blinds. The trail is marked with signs on the tree trunks," he tells them, "with little Dodge signs."

"Of course," Jamie grins.

Elliott rolls his eyes. "Marketing is everything. You'll see when I open up that dealership. Anyway, you'll see the trees with the blinds in about a mile, they have bigger signs and wooden ladders nailed up the sides. You get set up there, and we'll come this way through the woods with the dogs and drive the deer right to ya."

It was how he and his daddy had done it for years. No problemo.

Elliott passes out the walkie talkies. "They're all set to vibrate," he tells them, and they clip them on their chests.

"Let's go," Greg says, climbing onto the quaddie. "I'm ready to get me some venison!" he calls out as they set off.

It's a quiet afternoon as he and Jamie start off through the trees. There's never much talking during a deer hunt. Elliott is enjoying himself, feeling at home in the woods. Jamie was great out here, quiet as a cat. The dogs are happy to be out.

It's not long before they see one young buck, then two, and they maneuver so they slowly move them toward the blinds. They hear shots through the bush, and grin at each other. Then they hear a buzz and Greg over the squawker, "Missed him," then laughing, "He was a quick bugger!" Jamie flashes him a grin. They shrug and continue to make their way toward the blinds.

Suddenly they hear Matt's voice, fast and urgent on the squawker.

"Get over here, some animal came after Greg!"

They look at each other and run, hearing a strangled moan in the background before Matt cuts off the switch.

Elliott thinks he sees a flash of orange in the distance, but Jamie is already on his way, running through the trees, jumping like a deer over dead wood and roots. Even thought Elliott knows these woods like the back of his eyelids, he's bigger and slower. He follows as fast as he can without tripping through the underbrush.

He finally breaks into the clear area and sees them. The three friends are standing in a group, and the fact that Greg is standing up at all is a big relief.

As Elliott catches his breath, Matt walks over to him, pissed. "What the fuck, Sadler? You got wildcats up here?" Matt looks a little wild himself, his eyes all crazy and red.

"What, are you nuts? Cats don't attack people, you --" Then Elliott sees the scratches on Greg's face and-- "It just don't make sense!" he says, and it just don't. "What happened?"

"I don't know!" Greg says, blood everywhere. "I was just sitting over there, waiting for you guys. I guess I closed my eyes, I didn't see--"

"Wull, why didn't you stay in the fuckin' blind, you -- " He goes over to look where Greg is pointing, and sees a part of a deer carcass peeking out from under the leaves.

Matt picks up his gun. "Let's go get it," he says, snarling, and Elliott puts a hand on his shoulder, hard.

"We ain't gonna go get it," he says. "First, you'll never find it now. Looks like Greg was maybe sitting right where a cat left his kill. I'll send the boys out here tomorrow to move it, and -- careful," he says before Matt can jump in again. He keeps his hand on Matt's shoulder, and he can feel the muscle jumping there.

Elliott is afraid he'll have to take Matt down, but Jamie says, "Will you guys all just calm down?" just like nothin' is wrong. He's looking at Greg's face, not at them, nice as can be. Elliott relaxes then, glad to have someone like him along to keep this nutcase Kenseth from going off.

Jamie puts down his pack and pulls out a case; it's a first aid kit. "Thank god someone is thinking," Greg says, smiling a little shakily. He's holding his hand to his face, and blood is starting to ooze through his fingers and run down his neck. Jamie pulls out a couple of packets and rips open a bandage.

"Hey," Elliott says, "Mebbe we should get back and clean that up first."

Jamie shakes his head no. "Nah, he says," pressing the bandage into place. "It's a special kind. Meant for the field. Made of shrimp shells, that's all I know. Works like a charm."

Matt takes a deep breath, turning away. He's all pale, like he always is, but still shaking a little. It's better, though, and Elliott lets go of him. "Whatever, McMurray," he says and walks off.

Elliott looks over the bandage. "Seems to be okay," he says, "But let's get back."

They all agree and start packing up their gear. Elliott keeps an eye on Kenseth. He puts Greg in the passenger seat on the quaddie and makes Matt and Jamie hang off the back.

He knows there is something odd about the way Matt had reacted, but he couldn't put his finger on it. The more he thought about it, there had always been something odd about Kenseth.

Back at the lodge, with a hot fire in the big old stone fireplace, things look better. There's plenty of beer, along with some good natured joking at the expense of the Coors Light car this season.

The afternoon light is fading when Elliott pulls out a flask, and offers it to Greg, who takes it willingly.

"For medicinal purposes only," he jokes, and takes a long swallow. "What is that?" he asks, coughing.

"Bourbon," Elliott says, "plain old bourbon. But this was my daddy's flask; it's pure silver," he says, confiding the secret. "Older than the hills. 'Course it can heal!"

He smiles and offers it to Matt, but Matt holds up his hands and shakes his head no. "What, my daddy's flask not good enough fer ya?"

"Nah," Jamie says, "He's allergic to bourbon. Never rides with the Jack Daniels car; it's bad luck."

"Well, okay," Elliott says, and puts the flask away. Another thing about him. His daddy always said you couldn't trust a man who wouldn't drink with you.

Soon enough, though, dinner is delivered by Jeb, Maybelle's boy. Or maybe it's Jed. Elliott can never keep the twins straight. Elliott gives him a nice tip, goes out with him to the car. Asks kinda casual if he's seen anything out of the ordinary lately. Jeb and Jed keep an eye on the place for him; he trusts them. Jeb mentions there has been something out there in the west 40 that's been after the deer. "A cat?" Elliott asks. "Dunno," Jeb replies. "If it's a cat, it's a big one."

Elliott ponders. He'd never tell Jeb that a bobcat attacked one of his friends. He'd never live it down! But he does tell them there's a carcass out by the blinds, and Jeb knows what to do.

"Old man McCracken has been complaining that something's been howling out there in the woods," Jeb volunteers, just as he's starting up the truck.

"Well, you know McCracken," Elliott says, and Jeb nods and drives off. Elliott looks up at the stars and sighs.

When Elliott gets back inside, the boys have laid out the food on the table and have dug in with gusto. He's happy to see Greg eating normally. It wouldn't do for anyone to get hurt up here on a hunt. The last thing he wants is someone to get shot or somethin' even worse.

After a fine dinner and a few more beers, Elliott offers up some video games, but no one is in the mood. It's just as well, ever since Tony Stewart got on the cover of NASCAR '08. Nobody should be on there more than once. Or twice.

"Hey, well-- we should get an early start," he says.

"Yeah, I'm kinda beat," Greg adds, and so Elliott shows them to the rooms upstairs. The twins have made up all the beds, just in case, and everybody plunks their bag down in a room. Of course, Elliott has the big front room, like always. He grabs his toothbrush and heads down the hall. Everyone is wandering in and out of the bog, all just bein' boys.

He elbows Jamie aside to get to the sink, and says, "This is so much better than stayin' in a fancy hotel."

Jamie rolls his eyes. Which was agreement in anybody's book.

Greg is carefully peeling off his bandage, and says, "Hoo-ey --!" Elliott goes to look-- and is surprised the see the scratches almost gone.

"Must not have got me as deep as it felt," he says, touching the faint red lines gingerly.

"Yeah," Elliott replies, "that sure is odd. But good," he adds, quickly.

They finally all finish up, and settle into their beds. The house quiets down, and Elliott looks up at the sky out his window, full of stars. He loves this old place.

-*-*-*-*-

He sits up in bed, wondering what woke him up.

He hears noises outside, and looks out the window to see somebody in the yard. It's Matt, opening up his truck and Elliott can see right into the cage he has in the back. He looks again, and realizes that it's bigger than even the crate that he has on the big truck, the one he can fit 6 or 8 of the hounds in.

Now that just doesn't make sense. He can't figure out...

And then suddenly he does.

He runs down the stairs, his heart beating a mile a minute while he fiddles with the keys to the gun cabinet. He finds the knife he is looking for and manages to get his boots on his feet before he steps out onto the porch.

Matt has closed the truck up already. "Hey, Elliott," he says easily. "Sorry to wake you up."

So slippery, isn't he? Well, that isn't going to work. "You're not welcome in this house," Elliott says firmly. He goes down the steps, holding the knife low, just like his daddy taught him.

That stops him. Good, Elliott thinks.

"What's up?" Kenseth says, wary now.

"You didn't think I'd figure it out. You all think I'm a dumb country boy. But I'm not."

Elliott doesn't turn around, but he can hear the door open behind him. "Figure what out?" Jamie says, quietly.

Elliott doesn't take his eyes off Kenseth. "Look, Jamie, I know you think he's your friend, but there's something you don't know."

Jamie comes down the steps and stands off near the corner of the porch, watching them both.

Kenseth holds up his hands, darting looks to him and Jamie. Looking for sympathy he isn't going to get. Not once they all know.

"Tell, em Kenseth," he says.

"I got nothin' to say."

"What he won't tell you," Elliott says, staring him down, "is that he's a fuckin' werewolf."

"A wha-- WHAT?" Greg sputters, standing on the porch, at the same time Jamie says, "Well, shit."

"You heard me, Biffle," Elliott repeats, staring Kenseth in the eye. He hasn't flinched or laughed, which is as good as an admission of guilt.

"Elliott," Jamie started, in that too-calm voice and that just set him off.

"He was the one--" he said, over Jamie and Greg, "He was the one who changed the date. Tuesday was the full moon, if you didn't know. And he's the one who won't touch silver!" He glares at Kenseth, who is finally starting to look worried. "He's got this man-sized cage in his truck, and, and-- look, his eyes! They're all yellow, just look, dammit!"

Jamie rolls his eyes again. "Elliott, where do you get this shit?"

"There's legends. We know what to look for up here. You city boys, you don't know. Look at his eyes, they're yellow!"

"Elliott, your eyes are yellow, too-- it's the damn sodium light!"

"That don't change nothin'!" he shouts, and it doesn't. "Look, he was the one who scratched up Greg."

That shuts them up. Then Greg says, "Hey, uh, it was just a little cat. I may have said it was bigger, I mean it looked big at the time, but it wasn't much."

Elliott almost looks back at him, then. "I thought you said you didn't see it at all!"

Greg makes a noise like he was in pain. "I saw it when it ran off, okay?"

"Still. Whatever." Elliott is not going to let him fake his way through this! "It comes down to silver. You have to use silver, just like those boys on television."

"Fine," Jamie says. "Fine, let's have that drink. Okay? You want a drink, Matt?"

"Like you cannot believe," Kenseth says. Elliott can see he's sweating a little.

"Why don't you go in and get the flask," Jamie says, but Elliott cuts him off.

"No-- I've got some silver right here." He waves the knife, and that gets Kenseth's attention. He stops dead still. They all do.

Kenseth licks his lips. "Fine, you want to cut me with that thing, you go ahead."

"Okay I will," Elliott says.

Kenseth holds out his arm.

Elliott takes a step forward, the knife in front of him, ready for Kenseth to bolt. "I don't think this is dangerous, but you'd better step back, Jamie."

Jamie doesn't move. "Elliott, he is not a werewolf. You watch too much television, you know?"

"We'll just see, won't we?" he dares him, and grabs Kenseth's wrist. Holding tight, he brings the silver blade close to the skin. Kenseth is tense, but not pulling away. Yet.

He makes a small cut, and looks up to see Kenseth smile. He makes it a little deeper, so blood is running down his arm. Still no howling. He stares down at it.

It don't make sense.

"All this because I didn't want to drink that rotgut you carry around in your pocket," Kenseth says, pulling away and putting his hand over the cut. "Fuck, Sadler."

"Well, what's the damn cage for, then?" He waves at the truck. "It's big enough to lock up a person your size. Or a wolf. Explain that!"

Kenseth looks to Jamie, who pipes up. "It's my truck, Elliott, not Matt's."

"Huh?" Elliott looks over at Jamie.

Jamie coughs, then looks up again. "Look, they gave it to me with the truck. I didn't know why. Some sponsor, maybe."

Elliott sniffs, then shrugs. "Yeah, maybe. Okay."

"You got any more of them fancy bandages?" Matt asks.

Elliott sighs and goes to put the knife away.

-*-*-*-*-

Jamie has to focus not to spin out and spray gravel as they leave.

"It was your idea, McMurray," Matt says.

Jamie can only shake his head. "What was I thinking?"

Matt adjusts his seat. "If I never come back here again, it'll be too soon."

Jamie grins. "You know it. Any closer and you two woulda been tradin' paint."

Matt frowns, rolling down the window. "Sadler is dumber than a sack of hammers."

"Nah, he's okay."

"That's why you like him, I figure. Cause he'll never get it."

"Someone might," he replies, after a time.

"Nah," Matt says. As they slow down on the curving back road, he flings a small silver flask deep into the bush. "Your secret is safe with me."

\-----checkered flag!!------

 


End file.
